


Who Broke You?

by kmsmitty



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmsmitty/pseuds/kmsmitty
Summary: Kwon Jiyong likes to hurt others. Physically, emotionally, spiritually...anyway he can. No one seems to know, or care, why. He's not sure he even knows himself. If there's a reason, it's buried deep. Can time help heal his wounds, or is he better off dead...inside or otherwise...?





	1. Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be dark. Read at your own risk. It will be bloody, sexy, heartbreaking. I am breaking it up into chapters because I feel this story deserves it. I've never really committed to a multichapter fic before, so we'll see how this goes. Hold on to your hats, kids. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

It had always been this way with Jiyong. He never knew why he was like this, not that he had ever really given it much thought. Maybe it was because he had been training since he was six, and he was emotionally stunted. Maybe it was because in the twenty years since, he had been burned too many times to count the scars. Maybe it was just who he was.

Jiyong liked to break people.

It didn't ever take much. Jiyong had been blessed with elfin features. He was a man, but he looked and dressed in a more feminine way. He always had makeup on. Something about his androgyny had always fooled people into thinking he was more sensitive, kind, loving, than what he truly was.

In all honesty, Jiyong didn't think twice about hurting people. He genuinely enjoyed it. He delighted in his ability to always make the other person believe that it was anyone else's fault but his own. Rumors never spread about how evil he was, because nobody ever believed he could be so cruel. Jiyong hid behind his shy smile and charisma, always secretly plotting his next move.

It led to a very lonely life. But loneliness? He could bear it. Never again would he be at the mercy of someone else. What little heart he had left wouldn't tolerate it.

~

"Jiyong, why are we here?"

"You know what day it is, Youngbae. It's Tuesday. What do I like to do on Tuesdays?"

Youngbae groaned. "I thought last week had taught you a lesson. Apparently, not."

A side smile broke across Jiyong's face. He chuckled, ruffling Youngbae's hair as he did so. "Seriously? You think a broke off tooth and bleeding from my ear was going to keep me away? What do you think money is for?"

Youngbae blinked at Jiyong, trying to carefully form his next sentence. "I hate that you do this. I have half a mind to tell the press. That's the only way you'll stop."

Jiyong smirked. "You wouldn't just be outing me, Youngbae. You would be outing 25 other guys who all have the ability to kick your ass. Is that really something you want looming over your head? Because if so, by all means..."

Jiyong tossed his phone to Youngbae, a number predialed. All he had to do was hit "send," and he would be connected to the biggest gossip blog in Korea. Within the hour, the report would have spread across the nation. Youngbae stared at the phone for a minute, bottom lip between his teeth. He tossed the phone back to Jiyong.

"One day, I won't be able to save your ass. You know that, right?"

Jiyong laughed, puffs of air landing on Youngbae's face. "My dearest friend. You continue to save an ass that doesn't want to be saved. Let's go."

Youngbae grabbed Jiyong by the arm. "Why has no one reported you yet? It's not like people don't know who you are."

"There's a code of silence that I insure with monetary substance, Youngbae. You do not bite the hand that feeds you."

Youngbae nodded. He had assumed it was something like that. Everyone in Korea knew who G Dragon was. There was no way he could come here each week, and the other men be oblivious to his identity.

Youngbae got out of the car and jogged over to Jiyong's side. He opened his car door. Jiyong stepped out, adjusting his tie and smoothing the creases out of his suit.

Youngbae shook his head. "I will NEVER understand why you feel the need to dress up for this shit. Why don't you just wear sweatpants and a t shirt?"

Jiyong was getting annoyed with all the questions, the nagging. But Youngbae was the only person that had ever stuck around. That had never betrayed his trust. He wasn't a friend. He was a brother. And as such, Jiyong let him toe the line of his boundaries.

"Do you know how satisfying it is to be able to wash out a deeply soaked in blood stain? How soothing it is to clean it all up? To know that the blood fades, but the scars will remain?"

Youngbae didn't respond. He didn't know how to. He gave a curt nod and proceeded toward the alleyway. He hated Tuesdays the most, not that the other days of the week were much better. But he didn't fear for his best friend's life as much during the other 6 days of the week.

"There he is. We were waiting on you, sire," a raspy voice called out of the darkness, smoke curling toward the sky as its owner exhaled.

"You know I like to make an entrance, Eun Ho," Jiyong smiled, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Who is my victim tonight?" His eyes scanned the group of guys. There were fewer this week than last. He had figured as much. Three guys had been knocked out cold, one was still in the hospital, and another was dead.

Eun Ho leaned into Jiyong. "That kid right there. He's new. Got something to prove. His dad thinks he's not fit to take over his company. He thinks this will prove daddy wrong. His nose has been broken before. Do your best to break it back for him?"

Jiyong nodded. "Why do you insist on getting everyone's life story, Eun Ho? It's almost like you're trying to make me feel guilty for beating the shit out of these men each week."

Eun Ho's laugh turned into a choking wheeze. "Everyone has a reason to fight. I'm just trying to find one that is more interesting than yours. To see if you truly are one of a kind."

"Let me know if you find it. That'll be the first guy I genuinely try to kill." Jiyong walked away, moving closer to his opponent.

Jiyong couldn't have been much older than he was. A year at the most. He was roughly the same height, but he had a good 35 pounds of muscle on Jiyong. Not that it mattered. What Jiyong lacked in size, he made up for in fury. Blind fury.

This kid was nervous. Pacing back and forth. Cracking his knuckles. Scanning up and down the alleyway. Jiyong knew immediately that this guy had never fought before, at least certainly not like this. He was going to relish handing this kid's ass to him.

"Hey. You alright?" he called out to the man, not caring about the response, but doing his best to feign concern.

His opponent looked up from the spot he was crouched down in, up against a brick wall. He let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just haven't done this before. But you have. I can tell."

His response intrigued Jiyong. "You can tell? What do you mean?"

"You're friendly with Eun Ho. Not to mention everyone basically scattered when you walked up. I've had guys tell me they're grateful my name got pulled against yours. That I should pray for mercy."

Jiyong bowed his head to hide the smile that creeped across his features. He knew most members feared him, but it spoke to a very dark place in his mind to have it reaffirmed by a stranger. He licked his lips before he spoke.

"Prayers are unnecessary. At least if they're aimed at me. I have never shown mercy in my entire life. Do not show me any. I will use every weakness I find in you to my advantage. What's your name, kid?"

The man looked as if he wanted to say something, a rebuttal against the attack on his age, but he ultimately decided against it.

"Daesung. My-my name is Daesung."

Jiyong nodded. "Always good to put a name to the face I'm about to break."

He walked away.

"Jiyong. Daesung. You're up. Get the lead out."

Jiyong took his place in the center circle. He was glad there was a rule about backing out of fights. The look on Daesung's face screamed that he wanted to flee. But it was better for him to have one man beat his ass than another 15.

"You've both been checked for weapons. Do not involve other members. The fight is over when one of you either screams, is unconscious, or dead. Have at it, boys."

Jiyong didn't move. He didn't want the fight to be over too quickly. They got 8 minutes. He wanted to savor it.

Daesung looked like he was torn between wanting Jiyong to knock him out with one punch, and wanting to prove himself.

Jiyong tilted his head to the side and nodded at him.

Daesung set his jaw and stepped forward. Jiyong knew he was going to throw a punch with his left hand. He could have moved to avoid it. He could have easily caught Daesung's fist.

But he didn't.

Jiyong let Daesung's hit connect with his right cheekbone, feeling a cut open just beneath his eye. Daesung backed up, eyes wide as he realized what he'd just done. Blood began to roll down Jiyong's cheek. He pursed his lips before peeking his tongue out to lick some of it into his mouth. It was warm, tasted like copper. Jiyong's nostrils flared. This is what it felt like to be alive.

Jiyong licked more blood into his mouth, then hocked it back, and spit. He knew better than to touch his face. He could dig at the cut later. Jiyong cracked his neck, tilting his head to the side, and nodding at Daesung again.

Daesung looked bewildered. "Are-are you not going to fight back?"

Jiyong pondered the question for a moment. If he were a kind man, he could just let the kid win. But that didn't seem as fun.

"Eventually. Toying with you makes it more enjoyable. It adds to your fear. I want you to be petrified."

Daesung seemed to come alive by that statement. Jiyong smiled. It was exactly what he had wanted.

Daesung lunged forward, grabbing Jiyong by the shoulders, headbutting him hard. Jiyong didn't even flinch. Daesung turned his body into Jiyong's, shifting his weight, and forcibly flipped him onto the ground.

Jiyong's head smacked the ground, his vision whiting out at the sensation. He savored it, pushing his skull backwards into the pavement.

Daesung climbed on top of Jiyong, landing wild punch after wild punch anywhere he could reach on Jiyong's body. Jiyong was laughing now. It threw Daesung completely off guard. His first mistake.

Jiyong swung his legs up to wrap around Daesung's waist. He used his momentum to flip them over, leaving Daesung face down. He connected his knee with one of Daesung's kidneys, knocking the wind out of the younger man.

Jiyong stood over Daesung. He lifted his designer shoe, placed it against the back of Daesung's head, and stubbed his face into the ground like he was snuffing out a cigarette.

Jiyong crouched down and lifted Daesung to his feet, turning him around to survey the damage. What he saw made his toes curl.

Daesung's lip was split, blood trickling down his chin. But that wasn't even the best part.

There was a piece of glass jutting out from above his left eyebrow. Jiyong knew it would hurt, but he couldn't fight against the urge to do what he did next.

He pulled his hand back and smacked the glass further into Daesung's face, hand opening as the jagged edge pierced his skin.

To his credit, Daesung didn't scream. This pleased Jiyong greatly. He wasn't nearly finished yet.

He grabbed Daesung by the collar of his shirt, throwing him into the wall behind him. Jiyong ran forward and kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over.

Jiyong lifted his head and threw an overhand right. Daesung moved just fast enough to dodge it. Jiyong's hand connected with the brick wall behind Daesung's head, his knuckles ripping open and bleeding.

He sighed into the pain. Finally.

Jiyong backhanded Daesung, his blood smearing across the younger man's face. Jiyong grinned.

He threw a left hook, connecting with Daesung's jaw. He felt the kid's teeth clack together. Daesung spit blood and what looked like part of a tooth out. He lunged forward, but Jiyong was faster.

Jiyong ducked, both of them turning around quickly, and kicked Daesung across the face. He crumpled to the ground.

"How much time?" Jiyong yelled at Eun Ho, stopwatch in hand.

"Minute and a half, Jiyong."

Jiyong walked over to Daesung. He crawled beneath him as best he could, realizing in that moment just how badly he wanted to break him. He pinned the boy down, grabbed his left arm, and put him in an arm bar.

Daesung tapped against Jiyong's leg. He kicked and squirmed.

"You should have screamed."

Jiyong pulled back on Daesung's arm, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as he broke it at the elbow.


	2. Wednesday

Jiyong looked at himself in the mirror. He had just gotten home, shrugging off Youngbae's concern and heading upstairs to survey the damage. He smiled as he caught the first glimpse of himself.

The blood from the cut under his right eye had crusted over and was beginning to flake off. Jiyong lifted his right hand up to the cut. He dug what little nail he had on his thumb into the clot that had formed over the cut and pulled. A fresh stream of blood began to ooze out of the wound.

Jiyong trailed his index finger through his blood, swirling it over his cheek in a whimsical pattern. Now the fun could truly begin.

Jiyong took a deep breath, and reached both hands up to the cut. Using his thumbs, he pressed down on either side of the opening, fileting the wound open further. When he was satisfied with the deepened edges, he backed away from the countertop.

Jiyong loosened his tie and shrugged out of his suit jacket. He quickly unbuttoned his white shirt, which now had patches of reddish brown stained across it. He knew he should have attended to the stains first, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of counting his wounds.

Jiyong's face didn't look terrible. A blessing for his career, but a disappointment to his soul. His right eye had flashes of purple over it, and his forehead had an angry knot on it. But both would heal relatively quickly, be easily hid by his makeup.

Jiyong slowly removed his shirt, relishing in the stiff ache that throbbed through his muscles as he did so.

He grinned.

His chest and torso were riddled with purple and green bruises. Jiyong pushed on one particularly angry bruise on his ribcage, sucking air between his teeth as the pain lightninged across his body. These would take a while to heal. He could use these for weeks.

Finally, Jiyong looked down at his hands. His left hand was practically pristine, just a light grazing of scratches across his knuckles. But his right hand? His right hand was destroyed.

His knuckles were not only bruised, they were ripped open, almost to where Jiyong could see bone. He turned his hand over, the sight of his palm making him laugh.

The piece of glass that he had smacked further into that kid's face had apparently broken off into his hand. Jiyong chipped away at the dried blood around the glass, following a trail down his arm.

There was a knock at the door.

Youngbae gently eased the door open. "Jiyong? You okay? Need anything?"

Jiyong flung the door open.

"Youngbae...help me."

He crumpled to the floor.

~

Youngbae hated that he only saw Jiyong's true self in these moments. These little flashes where his guard was down, where his body would give up fighting, where his mind was too tired to keep up the charade.

Deep down, he knew that it wasn't all fake. That Jiyong had darkness in him that had incredibly deep roots. But in these fleeting moments, he could forget. He could lie to himself that it wasn't true.

Jiyong was curled up in a ball in Youngbae's lap, his face buried in the crook of the older man's neck. He was weeping, softly, silent tears collecting on Youngbae's collarbone. He was twirling a few strands of Youngbae's hair, his hand shaking as he did so.

Youngbae leaned into Jiyong. "Jiyongi, this is going to hurt. But I'll try to be quick, okay? I promise."

Youngbae felt Jiyong nod against his neck, opening his right palm. Youngbae let a harsh breath out of his nose. He hated this shit.

Youngbae took a razor blade and cut along the edge of the busted glass. He knew he would have to take more flesh out of Jiyong's hand to get all the fragments. The last time this had happened, he had only dug the biggest piece of glass out, and Jiyong had had to be hospitalized due to infection.

Jiyong tensed up in his lap, curling further in on himself. He whimpered, pulling on Youngbae's hair involuntarily.

"Ah, Jiyongi, stop. I know, I know."

Jiyong mumbled a brief apology and sniffed. Youngbae reached for the tweezers next to him. He gripped the piece of glass as tight as he could and pulled.

"Fuck, that hurts, hyung." Jiyong pulled his face back so that he could look at his hand, then at Youngbae.

"Yeah, well. This isn't exactly how I had pictured my night, either. Why did you do this, Jiyong?"

Jiyong hiccupped. If he was being honest with Youngbae, and he really did try to be, the answer was simple: he didn't remember doing it. He never did. He could always piece together the night up until Eun Ho began the fight, and he could always remember cleaning up at home. But the hour in between was always lost on him. He never even knew if he won the fight. Jiyong settled on something that was true, just not the truth.

"I never feel it in the moment, Youngbae. It never matters then."

"One day, it's going to. One day, you're going to bite off more than you can chew, and I'm not going to be able to patch you up at home. You're going to need professional help, and then what are you going to do?"

Jiyong bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't let it get that far. Doctors were too nosy. They would dig too deep. He couldn't risk it.

"I'll skip next Tuesday if you want. Give myself time to heal...?"

"You don't have a choice but to skip next week, Jiyong. It's a rule that you can't have open wounds during the fight. Your hand needs stitches, stupid."

Youngbae irrigated the wound, holding it up to his face, his eyes searching for anything refractive, wanting to get every last shard before he began to sew Jiyong up.

"Can't you just superglue it like you did last time, hyung?"

Youngbae rolled his eyes. "No. No, I can't. This is too deep for that. You're lucky you can still feel and move your entire hand."

Jiyong sighed, returning his face to the crook of Youngbae's neck. He wrapped his tiny body around the older man, squeezing gently.

"Thank you, brother. Please. Don't ever leave me."

~

"No, please. Please, don't. I promise I didn't mean --"

Jiyong sat bolt upright in bed. He immediately winced at the pain, his entire body clenched tight, his muscles contracted, sore.

He lifted his t shirt, sighing as he remembered all the bruises littering his torso. He pushed on one. He couldn't help himself.

Jiyong brought his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed the bandage that Youngbae had wrapped around his right hand and frowned.

"How am I going to explain this?"

A normal person could say that they had cut themselves while cooking. But Jiyong was right handed. He also didn't eat.

Jiyong snapped his fingers together. He had it.

"I'll say I was washing wine glasses, and one broke and cut me. Brilliant."

It was a flimsy excuse at best, but Jiyong did like to drink, and he was known to occasionally be somewhat domestic. He tried to stretch, but his body seized up in objection. He sighed.

"YOUNGBAE? ARE YOU STILL HERE?" he called out into the house. He waited.

No response.

Jiyong checked his phone. He had a text from Youngbae.

*Jiyongi, I hope you slept well. I know you feel awkward in the morning when I have to help clean you up, so I'll make myself scarce today. Let me know what lie we're telling people about your injuries so we're on the same page. Call me if you're going to do something stupid today. At least give me a chance to talk you out of it. Xx YB*

Jiyong tossed his phone. He hated this. He hated lying. He hated involving his only friend. He hated that he felt compelled to do this shit. He hated that he enjoyed, at some point in the night, doing this shit. But most of all, he hated that he couldn't keep it together. He couldn't hold the rage. He didn't know where it came from. It hit him in waves.

When did it happen?

Jiyong scooted to the end of the bed. He dug his heels into the rug, willing his legs to support his weight. He was running behind. He had to go.

~

YG narrowed his eyes at Jiyong as he entered into the boardroom. He knew immediately that something was wrong with his client, but he knew better than to comment in front of the other attendees.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I got caught by traffic," Jiyong lied, knowing that he didn't need an excuse to be late, but still felt he should offer one, just to keep up appearances.

"Not a problem. Gave us time to get settled. Shall we?"

YG droned on and on about the marketing strategy for G Dragon's next album. Knowing Jiyong was often inspired by art and fashion, he asked a simple question.

"When you're writing your songs, what color comes to mind?"

Jiyong had to close his eyes to keep from rolling them. This meeting was pointless. YG already knew what the promotion was going to be. What the tour dates were and where. What the merch would be. Who would model it. Jiyong had already outlined what he wanted, most of it being ignored. He knew, better than anyone, that this meeting was to make it look like he had a say in what happened in his career. He had known since he was a teenager that the only control he would ever have would be in his songs. YG couldn't write. YG couldn't compose. He could only veto a song if he thought it would be bad for G Dragon's image.

"When I close my eyes, I see red."

It sounded deeper than what it was. There was sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. This lit up the blood vessels in Jiyong's eyelids. Thus, red.

"Oh, these songs must be angry. Watch out. It'll be a fiery album!" a balding man called out from further down the table. Jiyong side-eyed him. He couldn't remember his name. Ji Tae? Hyeon Tae? He was pretty sure that there was a "Tae" in there somewhere.

"Maybe it is angry. Maybe it's about love. I don't know. I haven't written anything yet."

There was much commotion in the boardroom. Jiyong flashed a smile to YG and stomped out of the meeting.

~

Jiyong knew it was coming. He just hoped it would be the other side when it did.

And it was.

YG landed a knee-buckling slap across Jiyong's left cheek. He felt immediately calmer. He had this weird thing about symmetry. His face had felt off balance all day, but knowing that he would have a prominent welt there for at least the rest of the day put him at ease.

"Do you know the damage control I am going to have to commit to after your little stunt in there? You petulant child! You think this is funny?"

Jiyong grinned. Then, he nodded.

"You blatantly lied! I have a physical copy of the album sitting on my desk. We've decided EVERYTHING. What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"We? What do you mean 'we'? There has never been a 'we.' I make music. You market it. It's separate. It looked like you had forgotten. I gave you a gentle reminder--"

YG's hand came down across the same spot on Jiyong's cheek.

"Do you know how much money you cost me in 4 sentences?!"

"Do you know how much money I have made you in the last 8 years? I'll write you a check, if you're that hard up for it."

YG pulled Jiyong forward by his collar.

"Don't mess with me, Jiyong. I will end your career. I built it. I know how to make it crumble."

Jiyong shrugged out of YG's grasp.

"You need me more than I need you. You showed me that today. You're scared. You want my career? Take it. I haven't wanted it since before I debuted."

Jiyong strutted out of YG's office, subconsciously picking at the makeup covering the cut under his right eye. He pushed into his ribs with his left hand, feeling incredible pain as he hit an angry bruise. He sighed into the sting, his thoughts drifting away.

"Shit," he said to himself as he boarded the elevator. "Youngbae's going to chew my ass."


	3. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to post. I saw Jiyong in concert about a month ago, and he looked so sad and broken that I couldn't write about him for the longest time. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Jiyong woke up with his heartbeat in his cheeks and hand. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, groaning as he thrashed his legs out from under his blankets. He hated greeting the day.

He laid there, listless. Jiyong wasn't sure why he was even bothering to get up. The meetings he had planned for today had certainly been cancelled after his performance yesterday. He knew he should care, but he really couldn't bring himself to. If YG wanted to take him to court, he'd let him. He was sick of this shit.

When Jiyong looked back on his life, he really didn't know why he had chosen this for himself. He hated every part of idol life. He knew how awful it was to be in a stadium full of thousands of people, and still feel so alone. He longed to be free of it.

Jiyong stood up and stretched, feeling the bones in his neck and lower back click. He pulled back the curtains on his floor to ceiling window. It was raining. He smiled to himself. Maybe the day was salvageable.

~

Youngbae felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He nodded his thanks to the girl who handed him his coffee as he fished his phone from his jeans.

"Yeoboseyo?"

"Hyung, it's me. What are you doing today?"

Youngbae sighed. He mentally checked through the days. What was today...? Thursday. He could deal with that.

"Ah, Jiyongi. Have you eaten?"

"No, Eomma. I haven't."

Youngbae scowled as he hailed a cab. He much preferred being thought of as an older brother rather than a mom.

"I'm on my way to you. I'll cook you breakfast. Sit tight."

"Okay. I might go back to bed, then. Will you bring it to me?"

"Of course, Ji. Get curled in. It's shit outside anyway."

Youngbae hung up. Thursday's were definitely his favorite day out of the week. The only day he knew that Jiyong wasn't out to destroy himself. At least not on purpose.

~

Youngbae brought their breakfast up to Jiyong's room. He gently pushed the door open, stepping carefully to avoid the squeaky floorboards, just in case the younger man was actually asleep. He couldn't be sure, as Jiyong had built himself a fort of pillows and blankets, toppled it, and buried himself somewhere underneath all the fluff.

Youngbae set the breakfast tray across the top of Jiyong's bedside table. He tentatively poked around in the sheets, trying to decipher where Jiyong's body actually was, so that he wouldn't squish him as he sat down. Just then, Jiyong shifted, rolling over onto his right side. Youngbae scooted in close, trying to spoon him.

He didn't expect to get kicked in the face.

"Yah, I thought you had grown out of sleeping at the wrong end of your bed, Jiyongi," Youngbae scolded as he rubbed his nose.

Jiyong spun around, barely folding the covers down to look at Youngbae.

"You can only get truly cocooned if you lay that way. Duh," he scoffed, throwing the blankets back above his head.

Youngbae smiled. What a dork.

"Come on out. I made you pancakes."

Jiyong peeked his head back out.

"Chocolate chips?"

"What do you think I am? New? Of course, chocolate chips."

Jiyong squealed, kicking his legs to release himself from the confines of his blanket prison. He launched himself across Youngbae's lap, desperately reaching for his plate.

"Which one is mine?" he asked as he looked up at Youngbae through his lashes.

Youngbae giggled, "Your plate has pancakes in the shape of Mickey Mouse. Goofball."

Jiyong leaned further over Youngbae's lap to get a better look at the plates. The one closest to him was his. Youngbae's plate had two heart shaped pancakes on it.

As he reached for his own plate, forgetting about a fork and ripping his first pancake apart with his hands, he stared deep into his elder's eyes.

"Do you love me, Youngbae?"

A soft smile started at the right corner of Youngbae's mouth and slowly broke across his entire face, making his eyes and nose crinkle.

"More than you'll ever know, Jiyongi."

~

The two men stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning up the mess of their pancake adventure. Youngbae was washing dishes while Jiyong dried them.

"I...I kind of...well, I kind of went off yesterday..." Jiyong sighed, inching further away from Youngbae.

Youngbae didn't move, didn't even blink. He knew how skittish Jiyong could be. Today was going to be a good day. He could control himself.

"Oh? Do you want to talk about it?"

Jiyong put the bowl he had in his hands down, and he began picking at his stitches subconsciously. Youngbae reached over and grabbed both his hands.

"Hey. It's okay. I'm not mad. I just want to know what happened so that I can help you fix it. Don't worry, Jiyongi. Let me make it better."

Jiyong sniffed, putting all the intensity he felt into his mouth, pushing his lips out. He blinked several times before he could finally look his elder in the eye.

"It's the album, Youngbae. I'm scared. YG is going to take it and ruin it. I've already seen what he has planned. So...at the board meeting yesterday..."

Youngbae leaned forward. Jiyong always got so quiet and mumbled when he felt guilty about something he had done. Youngbae knew he needed to stay close. Otherwise, Jiyong was going to bolt. He nodded for Jiyong to continue.

"I...I told them that I hadn't even started writing yet. We're supposed to release it in a month and a half, and they think I haven't done anything yet. He's...he's gonna be so mad, Youngbae..."

Youngbae watched as Jiyong began to curl in on himself. He shifted forward, embracing the skinny man in front of him. He ran his fingers through Jiyong's hair, gently scratching his nails into the nape of his neck. Jiyong leaned into the touch.

"Hey. Hey. Look at me. It's alright. I know how personal this one is for you. That you don't want anyone else to touch it, because it'll ruin it. We just have to find a way to repackage it. That's all. It's a quick fix, Jiyongi. No need to get upset."

Youngbae pulled back, holding Jiyong by the shoulders. He searched the younger man's face. That's when he saw it. The anger flared across his features briefly. Though he tried to hide it, it was too late. Jiyong had seen it.

Jiyong moved to cover his face, shaking out of Youngbae's hold. He backed up slowly, turning to run.

"Jiyong. Stop."

"It's. It's fine, hyung. Leave it alone."

"It's the exact opposite of fine, Jiyong. Turn around."

Jiyong didn't turn around. He didn't move. He tried to not even breathe. He hated that he did this. He knew that Youngbae could never be mad at him, would never think that he shared blame or responsibility. When he was afraid of Youngbae being angry, it was always because of something like this.

"Jiyongi, when are you going to fight back? You're not 18 anymore. Not that it was okay back then. It was worse, actually. But you could go anywhere, do anything now. Why don't you?"

Jiyong sat down on the floor, his back still toward Youngbae. Youngbae had always been the one mirror that Jiyong found it hard to face. He was the only one that didn't lie.

Youngbae watched as Jiyong's shoulders began to shake, his sobs silent as they flowed through his body. He knew better than to move, to try to touch him. He was fully aware of the line he was toeing.

"Ji, I can fix it. I'll go see him. You don't have to be scared--"

Jiyong spun around. His nostrils were flared, eyebrows furrowed.

"You can't go see him. You're going to attack him. I don't trust you."

The last sentence was a punch to the stomach, knocking all the wind out of Youngbae's lungs. He knew Jiyong didn't mean it the way it sounded. He knew what he was trying to imply. The last time this had happened, Youngbae had promised Jiyong that he would kill YG with his bare hands if he ever struck Jiyong again. And Youngbae always kept his word.

Youngbae ran his hands through his hair, pulling at his roots. In the 18 years he had known Jiyong, he had never felt more frustrated than he did right now. He knew Jiyong hated every part of his professional life. He also knew that Jiyong would grin and bear it, never having the conviction to walk away. Somewhere along the line, he had forgotten that he could do this on his own, that he didn't need YG or the company to be successful. And no matter how hard Youngbae tried, he couldn't convince him, either.

"Can I at least call him? Tell him you will speak to him and the board members sometime next week? I can be civil, Jiyongi. I promise."

Jiyong scoffed, pain evident across his features. He pulled the corners of his mouth inward, chewing lightly on his bottom lip. He didn't want Youngbae to get involved. He needed to learn to clean up his own messes. But he knew he wasn't strong enough to handle it. Not today anyway. And this was a matter of urgency.

"You have to put it on speaker phone. I get to listen."

Youngbae closed his eyes, locking his jaw. He jerked his head from side to side, cracking his neck as he did so.

"Fine. Fine."

~

The phone call went well. Youngbae held his tone evenly, much to Jiyong's surprise. They had agreed to giving Jiyong a week off to get things sorted, with a meeting scheduled for the following Wednesday. Jiyong was happy, sitting on the floor, canvas and fingers covered in paint.

"I'll be right back, Jiyongi. I'm just going to call my brother real quick."

"Ooooh. Tell Hyunbae I said 'hi!'"

Youngbae nodded and ran upstairs.

He dialed in a number.

It wasn't Hyunbae's.

"Listen to me. Very carefully. I know what you did. He didn't tell me. I saw his face. If I noticed it, other people can, too. You think you can get away with this shit? I promise you, you won't. Do not force my hand on this. If you ever touch him again, you will wish you were dead. Is that in any way unclear?"

~

"Jiyongi, do you want to go for a car ride?"

Jiyong looked up from his painting. He had created another floral scene. This one had daisies strewn across a lush, green meadow. There was a tire swing hanging from a tree. He smiled to himself.

"Is it still raining?"

Youngbae walked over to the window. The sky was dark, rain bouncing off the pavement.

"Yup. Perfect drops."

Jiyong sprang up from the floor.

"Let's go!"

~

Youngbae smiled as he watched a fully grown man splash along the walkway in rain boots. Jiyong made sure to jump into every puddle, sending water flying as his feet met the concrete.

He giggled and ran, arms outstretched, hands collecting water droplets as the sky continued to weep.

Youngbae ran after Jiyong, steering him toward the car. Jiyong wrapped his arms around the older man, who scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way.

Jiyong nestled into the passenger side, relishing in the heat coming from his seat. He took his boots off and curled up, feeling the warmth on his toes.

Youngbae put the car in drive, and he reached over and grabbed Jiyong's hand. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, grateful that they were beginning to heal. He stopped at the edge of the driveway.

"Where to, Jiyongi?"

"Take me home, Youngbae."

There was only one place that could be.

~

Youngbae smiled to himself as he drove back to Jiyong's house. The younger man was sleeping soundly next to him, his lips parted, breathing deep.

Jiyong only ever felt at home when he could see the ocean. Youngbae could never figure out why he had chosen to live so far from it. He supposed that the drive there had something to do with it. The anticipation of seeing the water making arriving there even sweeter.

Youngbae never took his eyes off Jiyong while they were there. He wanted to remember the look of awe plastered across Jiyong's face as lightning hit the water and sand. He saw life in Jiyong's eyes in those brief flashes of electricity. Youngbae's heart swelled to see it. Jiyong had been on autopilot for years.

~

Youngbae carefully carried Jiyong upstairs to his room. He tucked him into bed as best he could without waking him. He almost had the door closed when he heard it.

"Youngbae? Will you stay with me? The thunder is loud."

Youngbae entered the room again, crossing it quickly and sliding in next to Jiyong.

"Are you scared?"

Jiyong settled into Youngbae's side with a sigh.

"No. I'm cold."

Youngbae smirked, wrapping his arm around the tiny man next to him.

"Thank you, Youngbae. I love you."

"I love you, Jiyongi. Get some sleep."

Out of all his days, rainy Thursday's with Jiyong were the ones he cherished the most.


	4. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see. Long time, no see. I apologize. I spent a few weeks seeing about a boy, and then came home to a family emergency, and this chapter just got shoved aside. I will try to update more regularly. I really appreciate all the comments asking where the next chapter is. You make me want to keep writing this mess. Hope you enjoy.

Youngbae awoke to the gentle sighs coming from the sleeping man next to him. Jiyong had his fingers curled into the short hairs on the back of Youngbae's neck. He was laying on his side, legs pulled tight against his stomach, arms outstretched toward Youngbae.

Youngbae sighed at the sight. It hurt him for some reason. He loved Jiyong with his whole heart, preferred him vulnerable. But he couldn't take it. Seeing Jiyong so soft and fragile made his heart feel like it was being crushed inside his chest. He moved as silently as he could manage off the bed and toward the door. He needed to disappear for Jiyong to be able to function today.

~

Jiyong woke up a few hours later, hands desperately searching for his best friend. He carefully cracked one eye open to peek around the room. He knew better than to hope. Youngbae never stayed.

Jiyong pouted. He pulled his legs into his chest and rocked himself. His bottom lip was obscenely full, jutting out as he whined. He couldn't understand why Youngbae just couldn't cuddle him long enough for him to wake up. Was it because they were grown men? He didn't think that should matter.

Jiyong sighed and rolled out of bed, landing with a hard smack on the floor. He rolled like a log toward the bathroom. He wasn't going to use his legs until he absolutely had to.

~

The water was cold. The candles had burned themselves out. The bubbles were gone.

Jiyong breathed out through his nose, startled by the bubbles made from the water that covered his nostrils. He scooted himself further up the side of the tub, freeing his face from the water.

He jerked his head to one side, then the other, cracking his neck as he did so. Laying his hands on either side of the tub, he lifted himself onto his feet.

Water droplets ran down his body as he stood there, and he watched their descent with amused interest. The bruises on his body were no longer that pretty shade of bluish purple. They were fading into that ugly yellow-green color. Soon, they would be gone completely. He hoped that his hand would heal before the bruises did.

Jiyong stepped out of the tub and moved toward the sink. He grabbed the edge of the countertop with both hands and leaned in to really look at himself.

The welt had vanished. The cut under his eye had a crusty scab formed over it. It itched like a son of a bitch, but he didn't have any nails to scratch it. If he was honest, he liked denying himself the pleasure of alleviating the itch. He loved to suffer through it.

Jiyong had completely ignored his beauty regimen the last few days. He just couldn't be bothered. His beard had grown in, patchy in some places. The skin around his nose was oily, but his forehead was dry. For most men, this look wouldn't be terrible. For Jiyong, he felt like a scrub.

Jiyong lathered up shaving cream onto his face. He took his razor in hand and watched the low light glint off the blade. He shook his head. No time for those thoughts. Not now.

He shaved his face with a gentle precision, the razor gliding over the contours of his face and neck smoothly. He dabbed moisturizer over his entire face, giving his forehead extra care. Jiyong knew he should really lotion up his entire body, but he settled for the roughest places: his hands, elbows, and knees.

Jiyong leaned forward toward the mirror again. He ran his fingers through his hair. The shaved sides were beginning to grow in again, his dark roots a stark contrast to the bleached blond ends. He mussed his bangs up with product, doing the best he could to leave the rest of his hair fluffy.

Satisfied with his hair, Jiyong looked through the many bottles of cologne that lined his sink's countertop. He closed his eyes and randomly picked one.

He blindly spritzed himself, before taking in a deep breath.

Jiyong immediately dropped the glass bottle. It banked off the floor and shattered.

Panic began to spread through Jiyong's body. He looked around wildly, eyes unable to focus, lungs unwilling to take in air. He dropped to his knees, his legs giving out underneath him.

Scent is the sense tied strongest to memory. But he couldn't quite place why this cologne made him break like the glass littering his floor.

~

Youngbae felt his butt vibrate. He knew who was calling him. He wasn't sure he should answer. He knew what day it was.

Fridays were one of Jiyong's prowling days, which meant either prowling for jewelry and clothes, or prowling for someone to entertain him. Jiyong always alternated weeks, and last Friday had been a shopping week.

Youngbae decided to ignore it. He would deal with the fallout at a later date.

~

Jiyong threw his phone toward the bed. It bounced off his pillow and clattered to the floor. He swore under his breath.

Five calls to Youngbae with no answer. Just a text that said, "I'm okay. Just can't talk right now. Tomorrow will be better."

The hell was that supposed to mean?

Youngbae very rarely blew Jiyong off like this. Jiyong supposed it had been kind of a rough week. Maybe he needed a break... Of course, he needed a break. Youngbae was the glue that held his life together. He must be exhausted.

Jiyong took a breath in through his nose, held it, then let it out through his mouth.

He stepped toward his dresser, pulling a drawer open to grab a pair of black boxer briefs and a pair of gray argyle socks.

Jiyong put one leg through, then the other. He hopped toward his closet while putting on his socks, slamming into the wall to keep himself upright. Because sitting down would have been too complicated.

He opened the door to his massive closet, left hand flicking the overhead light on so that he could see the rows and rows of clothes.

Jiyong thumbed through his dress shirts, deciding on a dark burgundy one. He retrieved a pair of gray slacks and his favorite shiny, black shoes. He debated on bringing a jacket for a few moments, eventually throwing one over his shoulder.

He then moved to the back wall of his closet. There was a tiny keypad built into the wood. Jiyong pushed the cover open and typed in "110487." He smirked to himself as the light flashed green, and the hidden door unsealed itself.

He stepped into the tiny room that held all of his jewelry. A man needed to accessorize, after all. To the left, there were shelves filled with rings. To the right, there were shelves littered with necklaces and watches.

Jiyong picked up the watch he had bought last Friday, securing it around his left wrist. He grabbed three platinum chains and threw them over his head. He decided on two gold pinky rings to match the yellow aviator sunglasses he clutched in his right hand.

He stood in front of the mirror, making final adjustments. He needed to look good tonight. He needed someone, anyone, to notice him.

~

The club was oppressively warm. Jiyong could feel sweat running down his back. He wasn't even on the floor, where people were pressed close together, moving to the music that played so loud that it made the walls vibrate.

Jiyong was up in the VIP section, which was a balcony that overlooked the entire club. He removed his jacket, grabbing the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear, and leaned into the candle centerpiece just in front of him to light it.

He took two strong drags, held the smoke as long as he could stand, and then exhaled through his nose. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, flicking absentmindedly through his Instagram.

"Hi. I'm Seo Minji."

Jiyong looked up at the girl who had spoken to him. She was pretty, with high cheek bones and a full mouth. Her hair was short, dyed blonde. He wished she didn't have contacts in. The blue made her features too elfin. It didn't match with the skintight, short, black dress she had on.

Still, she was rather cute.

"Kwon Jiyong. How's your night?"

Minji sat down across from Jiyong, crossing her legs carefully to hide what she could of herself, which wasn't much, given the length of her dress. Jiyong pretended he hasn't seen all she had to show.

"It's alright. Most of my friends are with their boyfriends, so that leaves me pretty stranded. Would you maybe want to dance with me?"

Jiyong pondered her question, his eyebrows furrowed. Technically, it was ladies night. Another thing Jiyong alternated was the gender of his partner. He should take her up on her offer, but he just couldn't. Jiyong was one of those people who was immediately hard if he found himself attracted to a person. And regardless of how cute Minji was, his dick had yet to respond to her.

Jiyong flashed a smile toward her. "Aw, I really appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna grab a drink and probably head out. It was nice talking to you, though. Enjoy the rest of your night."

Minji crossed her arms in front of her and stormed away. Jiyong was sure she knew exactly who he was. Too bad for her.

He got up from his table and moved toward the railing of the balcony. He was attempting to find a break in the crowd so that he could make his way to the bar. As he scanned the masses, he got a distinct nagging feeling that someone was watching him.

Jiyong began looking at faces more intently. It didn't take long to find the pair of eyes that were boring holes into his flesh. They belonged to a man dancing on his own.

Jiyong felt his cock twitch against the fabric of his boxers. He kept his eyes locked with the other man's for a few seconds before he allowed his gaze to wander.

The man appeared to be younger, about his height. His face was chubbier than Jiyong's, and he was broader, too. His smile was bright, and Jiyong could hear his laugh over the music. It was infectious. He couldn't help but to smile back.

Jiyong decided to make the first move. He pointed to the man, then to himself, and raised his eyebrows. The other man nodded. Jiyong pointed to the bathrooms. The man on the dance floor nodded and started pushing his way through people.

Jiyong took his time. He made his way to the stairs, descending leisurely. He thought about stopping at the bar and grabbing a drink, but decided against it. He couldn't afford to need to pee right now.

He strutted over to where the other man was standing, in the tiny, poorly lit hallway that led toward the bathrooms. He watched Jiyong approach with hunger in his eyes. It made Jiyong flush ever so slightly.

Jiyong walked right up to him, leaned over him to whisper in his ear.

"Kwon Jiyong. I could feel you eye-fucking me from across the club."

Jiyong breathed out against the shell of the younger man's ear. He ran his tongue across the lobe, before kissing his jaw.

The other man took Jiyong's shoulders and spun them around, pinning Jiyong up against the wall.

"Lee Seunghyun. But friends call me Seungri."

Jiyong looked down at his sides, realizing that this Seungri person had one of his wrists in each of his hands, keeping him completely immobile.

Jiyong pushed back into the wall, happy when Seungri's hips followed, brushing up against him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could feel Seungri's excitement against his right leg.

Seungri looked him in the eye, his head tilting to the right as he traced his tongue across his teeth. Jiyong wanted to feel those teeth against his skin.

"What do you want, Kwon Jiyong?"

"Whatever you can give me, Lee Seunghyun."


End file.
